by Korry Smith
"That makes two of us,” I said with a firm, resolute nod.
There was no going back for me, and he could argue and stare at me with that stern look of his all he wanted, but I wasn't budging.
And I think he knew that.
"Fine!" He groaned loudly and ran his hands through his crazy, unruly hair. He strode back over to me with those long legs and said fuck it to giving me space. "Are you hungry?"
I tried to hide how much he affected me with an answer of indifference. "Maybe a little."
"Let's get the hell out of here and go grab something to eat.” He got even closer, his chest to mine, and reached around me to open the passenger’s side door. “And then afterward, little brave one, I'll take you to meet my family.”
I fidgeted in my seat and couldn't seem to keep my body still. The thumping of my heart echoed in my ears. Even my weak nails had fallen victim to my overwrought nerves. I'd bitten them down to the roots.
Every few seconds or so, like a neurotic tick, I would peek over at Alex and try to gauge his mood.
Nothing.
There were no signs of stress, and his face was utterly at ease. He even drummed his thumbs to the beat of the music against his steering wheel.
It was just me—and I should be nervous. I was meeting Alex's parents for the first time, and that was a massive step into coupledom. Except, we weren't a couple, and that just made this whole situation weirder.
He wouldn't even kiss me, but thought it was perfectly natural to take me home and parade me around to his parents?
Really?
How in the world was he even going to introduce me?
"Hey, mom and dad, I would like you to meet the girl who tried to break into my car. She's homeless, and I've known her for less than a day. This girl is Madison. Wait, what's your last name?"
That wouldn't be awkward at all.
"We're here, kid," Alex said, patting my knee, and pulling me out of my panicky, inner chatter.
Leaning forward to look out the front windshield, I saw that we were at a pool hall called Main Street Billiards. That was not what I expected.
"Are we meeting your parents here?" I asked confused, glancing back at him.
"My parents?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked.
"You said that I was going to meet—"
"No, I said that I was going to take you to meet my family. I never said anything about meeting my parents.”
"Oh," I replied relieved but even more confused now.
Parents were a sore subject, and I could relate, but I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to flesh out all his deep secrets and hidden demons while praying to God that he left mine alone.
"Are you nervous?" he asked.
"Well, maybe…wait, why are we doing this again? You know, the whole meeting the family thing?"
He laughed, shaking his head. "It's not what you think."
"Oh, so there is no diamond ring in it for me then?"
"Jesus, kid. What is with you? Zero to sixty in a second flat. Look, if you want a diamond ring, you got to learn how to fucking steal it," he said, unbuckling my seat belt. "But before you go and do all that, you got to meet the people who will help you do it."
"That's profound."
He glared at me. "Get out of the God-damn car."
It was fun getting him all hot under the collar and fired up. It was easy to do. The way I figured, for half the shit he pulled with me, he deserved every bit of it.
The pool hall was busy, and every table occupied, but that wasn’t unusual for a Wednesday night. People stopped what they were doing and stared at Alex as we entered. It was a mixture of hostile looks and fascination. He commanded their attention. That wasn’t anything I’d ever seen before—with anyone. Alex wasn’t even aware of the stir he caused amongst the captivated crowd, and his indifference made him ten times hotter to me.
“Come on,” he barked when I started to fall behind too much.
It was quite challenging to keep up with his fast pace, but natural stride. He kept looking over his shoulder at me, making sure I was still there. I wanted to laugh. If he slowed down, he wouldn't have to wonder, he would know.
"Yo, Lex!" I heard a loud and familiar voice. "I called and texted your ass, what were you doing that was so important that you couldn't get back..." Len’s eyes landed on me as I peered from behind Alex. "Oh, I get it. Hey there, little Madi bug, how are you?"
Alex rolled his eyes. "She's not fucking five."
"Nope, I am just seventeen. Some people would consider me to be a kid," I said and directed my snark to the object of my affection.
He clenched his jaw and smiled tightly.
"Ooh, she's got spunk. Can we keep her?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Alex said, his voice as dry as the Arizona heat, but winked to show he was teasing.
He took my hand, and it was a simple touch, but still, a strong surge of emotion flooded through me, and I stared at it with wonder. If such a lightning bolt effect could happen by him just holding my hand, I could only imagine what sort of impact he would have if he touched me somewhere else more intimately.
"Here," Alex said, leading me towards the nearest stool. “Have a seat."
"Thanks.”
He handed me the menu. "Order something."
"Okay.”
Alex glanced around the pool hall, and his face that was once content had turned severe. "Where is everybody? I told those assholes to be here at six o’clock sharp. It's six-fucking-thirty."
"How the hell would I know?" Len shot back, chalking up the tip of his pool stick. "I don't keep fucking tabs on them."
"What about your woman?" Alex asked. "Where the fuck is she?"
"I'm here," Devlin shouted over the music, rushing over towards the table with two pitchers of beer in her hands. "Calm down."
Alex was relieved, but marginally. The way he kept popping his knuckles and pacing the small area we inhabited, gave him away to how nervous he was for me to meet his family. What surprised me was his honesty.
"Now all we're waiting on is Sawyer and Nyx." He leaned in so close that his lips grazed the tip of my earlobe as he whispered. "They're going to love you."
"Great," I said, averting my gaze, and looking back down at the menu.
He never played fair.
Alex patted me on the leg, and gestured at Len, telling him to rack the balls. As he walked to the other side of the room to get a pool stick, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I glanced over to my right and caught Dev staring.
"Hi," I said, uncomfortably.
"Baby Madison,” she cooed. "You're still here?"
"Lay off," Alex snapped.
I turned around, startled by his sudden reemergence.
"What? I was asking her a question. That's still allowed, isn't it?"
"Not when you're hateful," he said, giving me an apologetic look.
She gasped. "Me? Hateful? Never."
"Careful," he said.
It was a warning and should be heeded as such.
"Whatever," she said, blowing him off. She turned her eyes back to me. "Seriously, you look like a smart kid, what the hell do you see in that tyrant?"
There were times where I would see the tyrant or a detached demeanor in Alex, but it was when he was dealing with other people. Granted, I hadn't known him for all that long, but he was different with me. The glares he would give weren't cold or hateful; they were…flirty.
"Um, well…" I paused and glanced over at the pool table.
Alex stalked around it, reminding me of earlier that day, and he narrowed his eyes in concentration as he plotted out his next move.
When he leaned over to line the stick up with the ball, his shirt rose up and showed the world a brief glimpse of the handle on his gun.
It thrilled me.
The guy was a risk, and not the healthiest thing for me to pursue, but I couldn't pull myself away from his gravity.
I turned back to Devlin to answer the question: What d
o I see in Alex?
"My future.”
While I was shooting a game of pool with Len, the rest of the family showed up. Nyx, the talkative New Yorker, went on and on about some problem with a guy who tried to screw them on a deal and apologized for their lateness. They handed Alex a wad of cash as penance, and that was the end of it. It shocked me to see an exchange done so openly, but what did I know? If I hadn't seen it on Law and Order, I just assumed it didn't exist.
The introductions were brief, and I'm sure if Sawyer and Nyx weren’t an hour late, things wouldn't be as rushed, but time was on constraints. Not long after everyone knew each other’s names, Alex was waving the guys outside to talk about business.
I watched him until he disappeared around a corner, and when I turned back to Nyx and Devlin, they were staring at me, like a zoo oddity.
"Tell us something about yourself. What makes you want to live a life of crime?" Nyx scooted up to me in her chair.
I'm a short girl, about five-one, so everyone seemed like giants, mainly when they were average height like Nyx, but her long-limbed elegance gave the illusion that she was taller.
She described herself as an ex-ballerina, who had pirouetted herself into car-jacking. I couldn't get over how such a big personality could be in such a petite body. Then there was her hair. It was strawberry blonde, big and spiral-curl, and it went well with her caramel skin. The girl wasn't color by numbers beautiful, but uniquely gorgeous and stunning in her features.
“Why do I want to live a life of crime?” I laughed nervously, scratching my head as I pondered how to answer that. It sounded hokey to me now. When Alex said it, I wanted it. He had a way of making everything seem exciting.
"It's not a trick question." She assured me.
"Well, it's complicated," I said.
"She's got the hots for Alex," Dev chimed into the conversation.
My face got hot, and I grabbed my drink, gulping down its entire contents.
"Oh," Nyx said, fully understanding my plight. "I can see that. He’s a handsome guy.”
"It's not all about him," I said in protest, and they both gave me a disbelieving look. "What? It's not."
"Then what is it about?" Dev asked.
In part, it wasn't a lie, but I had a hard time coming up with a reason that didn't revolve around him. The guns, the exhilaration, the danger, and well, everything had him attached to it. I wondered if I would still want this life if he were an accountant. Did I want to be a housewife in the suburbs with Alex? If he were a straight-laced guy, would being normal make me happy? Or did I want this hectic life of crime more than I wanted Alex?
The answer was simple.
"I like not knowing what tomorrow will bring.”.
Dev slowly sipped her beer. "You're a strange kid."
"Yeah, I know." I sighed. "I wish people would stop seeing me as one."
"There's nothing wrong with being a kid," Nyx said.
"Not when the guy you're into uses it as an excuse not to date you," I said, my eyes landing on Alex as he paced outside.
"Wait…" Nyx sat up straight in her chair. "You think Alex is blowing you off?"
“Definitely. Alex sees me as a buddy.”
Dev coughed. "Bullshit."
"No, I'm serious," I said, letting out all my pent-up frustrations. “He made it clear to me that we were just friends.”
"Listen, honey," Dev said, leaning over towards me. "There is one thing you have to know about men: they don’t have girls as friends. It’s impossible for them because they’ll always be wanting to sleep with you.”
Nyx nodded in agreement.
It wasn’t the first time I heard that sentiment. I’ve seen movies.
“My situation with Alex is different. Okay? I’m his charity case. Just some poor kid he feels obligated to take care of.”
Dev scoffed. “Have you met him? He’s not exactly a huge humanitarian. Alex doesn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.”
"What? What about his parents?" I asked, using the opportunity to get some info on him.
"He doesn't talk about them," Nyx said.
Damn it.
“Len told me that they were rich," Dev said.
Now, we’re talking.
"Oh, come on! He's pulling your leg. Why would Alex leave a rich family? No one chooses this life," Nyx said, dismissing her.
"Hey, I'm just telling you what I heard, okay?"
As they argued about the validity of Dev’s intel, I couldn’t stop thinking about Alex and the life he chose. If he was willing to leave a life of money, and loving home, what did that mean for me and my future with him?
"So, what are you telling me?" I asked, interrupting their bickering, and looking over at Dev. "Are you saying that I should give up? That he doesn't give a shit about anyone — and that's including me?"
"No," Dev said, "What I'm saying is that you're not just anyone to him. Don't you listen?"
"What?"
I was confused, and all this cryptic shit lost on me.
"Nyx," she said, exasperated. “Will you please explain it to her?"
"Yes, please!” I threw up my hands. “Someone explain this to me!”
"Don't worry. I got this." Nyx cracked her knuckles. "Let me put it to you this way. If you were just anybody to Alex, he would have shot you just for trying to steal his car."
"Oooh, that's true," Dev said. "Well put, Nyxxy."
"Well, you know," she said, grinning.
I stared at them, slacked jaw, and tried to decide if they were serious about this shit. I couldn't hold in my laughter. It was ridiculous. Even over at Tommie’s, when he had the justification to shoot those assholes, he didn’t.
It was all fun to him.
Was Alex a loose cannon and a drug dealer? Absolutely, but that’s where it ended. He wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer.
“You two are crazy. He would never hurt me,” I said.
"Exactly!" They both said in unison as they clanked their glasses together.
I looked away from them and towards the front door just in time to watch Alex stride back into the pool hall. My feelings for him were growing stronger by the second, but what if Nyx and Dev were wrong about his feelings towards me? He was older, more experienced, and the way the women in this pool hall eye-fucked him, he could have anyone he wanted. There wasn’t anything special about me. I was just a screwed-up kid who needed a place to crash.
That’s all.
Alex scanned the room until his eyes found mine. I froze, too afraid to even breathe. He stared at me as I stared back. It was intense; my pounding heart counted the passing seconds…ten, eleven, twelve.
Everyone responded to him, coming up and talking in his face, but he kept his focus on me. Then Len demanded his attention, but before he broke our gaze, he smiled.
It was genuine, and only for me.
Chapter Four
It’d been over a month since the night at the pool hall. Nyx and Dev convinced me that Alex thought more of me than just a friend or even just a kid he was housing. They listed off on their fingers several things he’d done as the proof of his clear feelings. Everything they said matched up to what I was thinking. The way he smiled, only for me, and the closeness of his body as he taught me how to play nine-ball was more boyfriend than buddy. I was hopeful that with time our relationship would grow into something more.
But things changed.
It started on the ride home that night. Alex wouldn’t talk to me. He barely even looked at me. If I asked him a question, he would answer with one syllable words. I refused to look too much into his behavior and chalked it up to exhaustion. It was late, and we had been going all day. There were too many times he showed signs of being into me, and all the good he’d done didn’t outweigh that one bad moment.
But that was just the beginning.
In the morning, things got worse, much worse. Not only was Alex not speaking to me, but he would purposely move away from me if I sat down next to him or got
within a foot of his perfect, impenetrable galaxy.
It was painful and disheartening. I segregated myself to the bedroom and wouldn’t interact with Alex's family. That atmosphere was too reminiscent of the home I’d run away from in October.
I’d thought about packing up all my shit and leaving, but Alex would always sense my plans and do a one-eighty. He would accost me in the kitchen or the living room and give me that smile that lit up my world. That’s all it took to win me over. We’d be talking and laughing and flirting again, much like we did that first day together, and things with us would quickly escalate from there.
How many times would he allow playful touches, or even the gentle ones, like brushing the hair from my eyes and rubbing his hands up and down my arms when I got cold?
Like three Tuesdays ago, for instance, it was raining, and Alex stayed in; hungover from the night before. He tapped on my bedroom door and asked me to watch a show with him. It was just us in the apartment that day, and during those rare times, he would let himself relax around me.
We sat down on the couch to watch Breaking Bad, and our thighs touched for three-freaking-episodes. It had to be against his rules. I’m not sure how it happened, but we got into a playful fight over what to watch next. We wrestled with the remote back and forth for a while, but, somehow, I got possession of it.
As I was lying on my back, arm stretched over my head to keep it away from him; he threw his body on top of mine. It shocked me, and I couldn’t move. Alex stared down, his gaze flickering between my eyes and lips, and for the second time, he leaned in to kiss me.
Then fate stepped in with a loud, abrupt knock on the door. Alex jumped up from me like I was on fire. He clicked off the television, ran his hands through his hair, obsessively, and allowed himself one last glance at me. There was a hint of regret but quickly wiped away with indifference. Alex ordered me to fix my shirt before going to the room. He was doing a drug deal, and I wasn’t privy to that.
I swallowed my lumps and cursed myself for letting him hurt me.
But I stayed, and Alex was back to keeping me at a distance, and this was the longest stretch, ten days and counting. Whatever slip of judgment he had with me on that couch, he made a point of never letting it happen again.